


One of a thousand.

by Jinglies



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Gen, I mean kinda sorta, Letters, Promptis if you squint, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 12:45:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13501912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinglies/pseuds/Jinglies
Summary: Writing a letter you don't intend to send can be cathartic.





	One of a thousand.

Prompto scratches his chin, the room as dark as ever, the hum of the generator below his window making his skull buzz.

He sits at his desk; on the upturned brittle plastic crate he claimed as a chair, something he found in the trunk of a ruined car.

It's sunbleached in a way he remembers and revels in as the plastic almost pills under his finger tips.

Prompto moves maps and notes, memos and wires out of the way and clears a little space, just enough.

He pulls out a note pad, a sewn together stack of reused paper.

  
He catches sight of an order invoice as he flips trying to find a page without plans on it, a page without a crudely drawn map or description of someone who went missing.

Prompto sighs, scratching his chin again before humming and reaching for his pen.

Pen.

He misses the days of throwing pens at ceilings, wasting ink by drawing on his arms - of Noct drawing on his arms.

Trying to connect the dots on of his skin, into letters, shapes, pictures...

He misses the sun.

He misses his freckles.

Prompto swallows. It's dry and it's painful.

He gives the pen a few flicks before he starts writing, gathering his thoughts for a moment.

_Since ~~you left us~~ ~~had to go~~ ~~**LEFT** ~~ got taken away from ~~us~~ me._

Prompto re-adjusts his other hand on the table, the well worn wood smooth under his hand.

'Write what you feel, don't waste ink.' He thinks to himself, shaking his head a little.

_I think about all the time we spent together - not just the big things or the things that were fun - but all the time we had together that I don't remember._

There's a crash downstairs, he looks over his shoulder for a second then hears Ignis scolding someone.

_All that time ~~we wasted~~ doing nothing at all means so much to me now, but I can't remember more than maybe 5 unique minutes of it._

Prompto closes his eyes for a second, trying to recall a picture of Noct in his head, 16 or maybe 17, messy from the way home on a peak hour train.

_I want to remember so **bad** but I'm scared I'll just be making stuff up at this point._

_I should've taken more pictures - I know you used to hate a camera in your face but I want to see you looking carefree._

_More than the ones we took on the road trip honestly when I see pictures of you then I look at the the time stamp and think 'this was 56 days before you disappeared' and it hurts a lot._

Prompto feels his fingers ache, his wrist twitches and pulls the nib across the paper.

He pulls his hand up before he smudges anything.

Prompto realises he's holding the pen tight enough to warp the barrel.

The breath he takes rattles in his throat, thick and heavy.

_I' ~~m miserable witho~~ M ~~ore~~ than ~~the~~ sun, ~~seeing stars an~~ d _

~~_You'd hate it now Noct, it's so hard to sleep without the sun - hard to believe but I think_ ~~

_Come back soon, I can feel the memories of you as Noctis, not just the Chosen King slipping away every day you're in there._

_I miss you, Noct_

Prompto blows on the paper to dry the ink before flipping the pad of paper shut.

He catches sight the words on other pages.

_I miss you Noct_   
_Noct, I miss you_   
_Come home soon_   
_Noct I miss you_   
_I'm waiting for you_

He tucks the notepad back under the stack of maps on his desk.

Prompto stretches his neck side to side, clears his throat and stands slowly.

His knees crack anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Alt Title "letters to ghosts" :U
> 
> watch me catch every mistake in this tomorrow while I'm at work and can't do anything about it.
> 
> Decerterus@tumblr.com


End file.
